Chorizo farts

“I’m sorry I’m running a little late” I said as I got to the front office at 7:48am, “But I got stuck behind a government vehicle that had the nerve to drive the speed limit!”

I normally take 30 minutes to drive to work, but today it took me 40. A full-sized pick-up with county decals and yellow whoopee lights on top was in front of me, Behind me were three more vehicles afraid to pass.

I didn’t have time to review the lesson plans. The students were already waiting by the door as I came by.

I had chemistry and biology classes today. The teacher had left detailed instructions for me which I followed. Chemistry left me clueless, but second hour was easier: they had to study the details of the paramecium.

The students were restless after 45 minutes. One young woman wanted me to play the DVD “VeggieTales.” I had never seen the video before and wasn’t sure if it was suitable for teenagers. Other classes had seen the same video the day before.

“They’re a bunch of vegetables singing about God!” said one young gal. Singing about God? I knew that would be a contentious topic. And against my better judgment, I let them watch the video. The video was more childish than it was preachy, and I and several students were asking ourselves “Why are we watching this?”

The students left two minutes before the bell. All of them got up and left the room. Not a nanosecond later I got a phone call from an anonymous caller “Did you let your class out early?” The voice was not happy. I looked at the clock. “I thought the bell had rung!” and what I heard was probably a bell in the closing song of the video.

Later on during third period an older, hefty woman in a long coat came by and yelled at me for letting the students roam the hallway. Those weren’t my students; what she was seeing were students going to the bathroom one at a time. As one came back in, another would leave but I never let anyone go with someone else. There were other students walking down the hallway who were not from my class. The woman was not pleased, growled at me and returned to her room across the hall.

“Who was that woman?” I asked the class.
“She’s just an aide, don’t worry about her!” Ironically, later that same hour another class was let out before the bell but I didn’t see that old woman screaming at that teacher.

Third hour was described by the teacher as “a talkative bunch…” and she wasn’t kidding. They were more interested in reading independently. One lone boy read a book on John Lennon. A few girls were playing TicTacToe.

A group of disinterested Football players were more interested in playing a game of “Bullshit,” a modified poker game.
“Can’t you guys yell out something else besides BS?” I asked, “like cowscat or cattle turd?”
"Cattle turd? Hahaha, that's funny."
They didn’t heed my advice and continued to play their game of BS. My aide assured me that the regular teacher lets them play cards and read books as long as they turn their assignments in as requested.

The boys were actually funny to watch, as they’d break out into Spanish when the game got rowdy. One of the guys farted silently. “Oh man” said one boy as he placed his shirt over his nose “That smells like Chorizo!”

I am glad I wasn't within range of that one!